


Opposites Attract

by crazyparakiss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Humor, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-05 01:30:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14606226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyparakiss/pseuds/crazyparakiss
Summary: Ron had always been far more vanilla than he pretended.





	Opposites Attract

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unadulteratedstorycollector](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unadulteratedstorycollector/gifts).



> Not beta'd and I'm not sure how this counts as a rare pair (since it's canon) but whatever. I wanted to write humour-smuts for Kat (who is an absolute gem) who has a great love for Ron/Hermione and the "Getting turned on by Titanic" prompt screamed "Vanilla/Prudish Ronald Weasley". I hope you enjoy it, darling, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend. You deserve all the humour smuts <3333333
> 
> Also, I totally apologise if my tense slips, and for any redundancy.

Ron had always been far more vanilla than he pretended. If Hermione had been paying attention, when they were in school, she’d have been more wary of his  _ scarlet woman  _ whispers. He was the sort of bloke who saw holding hands as a symbol of undying love. Which, granted, Hermione enjoyed. There was something about Ron’s naivety that she loved corrupting. Amusing, really, that all of their friends seemed to be convinced she was the sort of woman who only wanted sex if all the lights were off and there was a sheet between their bare skin. Hermione wasn’t a blushing virgin who would forever remain terrified or ashamed by sex. That was Ronald Weasley. 

The Ronald who went red faced and spluttered the first time she caught him having a wank—six months into them living together. Which had been a whole other mess of  _ people shouldn’t shack up before marriage  _ sermon from Ron’s mum and Ron. She’d won the son over with the messiest blowjob she’d ever given. “Can we do that again,” he’d asked with a deep flush that was a combination of embarrassment and orgasm. “If you live with me I’ll suck you off every day,” she’d replied, and she’s held up her promise. Which was probably why he appeared so embarrassed to be caught wanking. 

 

“I...this isn’t...shit,” he sputtered, much to her amusement. “Why’re you laughing?” 

 

“No reason,” she grinned, pressing closer before she whispered, “Do you need a hand?” The noise that left his throat was a strangled mix of sound—desire, shame, and annoyance. It was like music to her ears. 

 

She pushed him down onto the closed lid of the toilet and covered his question with her mouth. Her tongue lapped up his moan as she climbed over his exposed lap. As he broke away, Ron gasped, “Where're your knickers? You just got in from work,” he sounded horrified at the thought that she’d been in public without a thin lace veil to hide the secret of her womanhood—or some such shit. 

 

“Shut up,” she commanded as she gripped his cock, guiding him into her. She’d been damp from the thought of him all through the day and was made wetter by the sight of him, with his bottom lip drawn tight by his teeth. It was his blissful face that she’d never tire of seeing. Hermione wanted to be the cause of that face. 

 

“I love you,” he whispered against her breast before he bit at her nipple, his strong, freckled hands gripped her hips as she rode him with a need she could never put into words. 

 

When they finished—after another enthusiastic round in bed—Hermione turned toward him with a questioning stare. “How often do you have a wank when I’m not around?” 

 

His blush was back, such a dark red it hid a lot of his freckles, “It’s not like I’ve always got my hand on my cock.” 

 

_ Pity.  _ But that thought she didn’t voice. Instead, she quirked an eyebrow and asked, “Well, did something turn you on?” Hermione didn’t believe it possible, but somehow Ron grew even redder. 

 

“You cannot laugh,” he began with a note of warning. 

 

“I make no promises,” because that was an impossible thing to promise. 

 

“I watched that film you left in the player,” he mumbled his words so quickly she nearly missed them. 

 

“ _ Titanic, _ ” her voice was appalled. “People freezing to death in the ocean is not a kink I’d have guessed you possessed.” 

 

“Not the dying,” he hissed with a glare that amused more than it terrified. “That part where they are in that old car...the windows are all fogged up and the hand...ugh,” he threw up his arms, “Forget it.” 

 

“No,” she made her voice more gentle, less judgemental because she didn’t want him to completely close himself off. “Tell me.” 

 

“I just...” he glared, as if he was mad at himself for his thought processes, “I just remembered how you left handprints in the shower and I reacted.” 

 

“From a hand on a foggy window,” she reiterated to be sure. 

 

“Yes,” Ron grit through his teeth. 

 

Her smile was warm, loving and amused, as she snuggled into his wiry torso. Ron was too pure, too naive. Hermione couldn’t wait to see how much he reacted to pornography if he got turned on by a boring sex scene. One where the most interesting thing that happened was a hand sliding down a window.  

  
  



End file.
